Feeling fictional

Am I ready to break back into the realms of fictional writing? I think I may be inching closer in that direction, though my fantasy realms are often still heavily tied into reality. Here’s something I wrote recently, and shared in an open reading. It was written on a plane sometime in June, and it needs some work, but its still to be determined whether it will develop into anything bigger. It was mostly just fun to play.


She paused as the power down screen glossed over her phone. Was there anyone who would want to know that she was about to take off? The answer was as firm as the pad of her finger on the screen, and just as undramatic:


There was a dry kind of sadness tinged in her afterthoughts, but the sense of relief was more apparent. The last person to whom she felt she owed an update never seemed to care much.

This void left space for her to write, and to process. It was in moments like these that she could conjure up the creativity that kept her flying, traveling across the globe. It wasn’t extra-ordinary.. just the luck of the times (she supposed).

The pale, slightly dirty gray of the airplane window gave way only to a more pale day outside, but she enjoyed watching the intricacies of the airport employees as they got ready for departure.

Put your mask on first, before assisting someone else.” The generic safety instructions echoed through the cabin.

She nodded, with a slight smirk. Yes, she had learned that lesson during her last major crash.

She had found a new purpose-getting things accomplished as efficiently as possible. What she could set her mind too, she could control, in a sense. It was a change from the control she had been under before.

..She still had his letter; the envelope worn on all corners, and the fold rubbed so much that the glue threatened to let go of its bond. But to her, the contents had never been revealed.

Instead, they served as a reminder of why she couldn’t turn back, and allow anyone to have that kind of access again.


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